


Already Home

by maroon



Series: the smut [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Connor, M/M, Somnophilia, Top Markus, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maroon/pseuds/maroon
Summary: Markus comes home.Connor welcomes him home.





	Already Home

**Author's Note:**

> ask by anon: Yo you should write more about markus' somnophilia thing, it's lit as heck
> 
> im so whipped for the people on tumblr yall are all so nice to me,,,
> 
> [(hello im rk-1k on tumblr ! come one come all)](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rk-1k)

Markus sniffs as he shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack with the little dog bone decal that Connor insisted they buy. Hey, Markus isn’t complaining; it makes their apartment a little less bare and a lot more homey. 

He’s been away for a good two weeks; it’s the longest he and Connor has been apart in the duration of their seven year relationship. Markus is just eager to cuddle Connor until both of them are satisfied, or fuck the smaller man until neither of their ventilation systems could keep up.

Connor’s an excellent homemaker—what would you expect from someone created to be perfect, after all?—he cooks, he cleans, he just loves doing anything with his hands, with himself. Markus finds it cute; North calls it neurotic, but that’s just Connor’s way of dealing with the fact that Lieutenant Anderson’s been temporarily assigned to the GCU instead of the Violent Crimes unit.

Besides, Kara—that’s North’s wife—cleans nonstop when she’s really frustrated.

Anyways; Connor hates his new partner—a portly old man that looks vaguely like Lieutenant Anderson—and he’s constantly looking for ways to not go out with the man. It’s… petulant, to say the least, but it’s not like there’s crime going unsolved by Connor playing hooky.

Markus likes going home to someone every now and again; and now that Connor’s not as active in the DPD, Connor’s spending all his time either babysitting Sumo or Alice, or, as is Markus’ favourite, lounging away at home, cooking (wonderful) meals and waiting for Markus to come back home.

Sometimes, Markus catches him dancing around in nothing but one of Markus’ yet-to-be washed dress shirts, a mop as his mic and the curtains drawn aside to let the sunlight in, curls a riot on top of his head and trying to hit the notes in Honeymoon Avenue or trying to imitate the voice of James Hetfield.

He’s so different than the cold, empty, analytical Connor that he once knew in passing.

This one is loving, energetic, albeit still analytical and practical—which can be seen by the way he’s ruthless in buying fresh produce from the farmer’s market—but there’s this layer to him that makes him… goofy, as Lieutenant Anderson would call it.

Like the way he tries to stop himself from sneezing but fails, making a weird noise in his throat that Markus always laughs at. Like the way that when he gets bored, he does anything and everything. There was one time that Lieutenant Anderson called Markus and asked if he could make Connor stop throwing cards at the inmates, because ‘he’s getting really good at it and it’s becoming a fucking  _hazard’._

Connor once tripped over himself just to pet a snake after he discovered that he loved all kinds of animals. But seriously, a snake? It didn’t stop Markus from taking Connor on a zoo date, though.

Although he did go on a tangent about why animals shouldn’t be caged. Markus did too, actually. They made a pact to free the animals and then got some ice cream.

He finds himself smiling at his thoughts, toeing off his shoes and leaving it properly by the shoe rack, half-remembering the way Connor ragged on him when he left his shoes lying about in the living room. Says it almost tripped over Alice, and Markus understands the sentiment. He’d rather die than let that little girl get hurt.

It doesn’t help that her father is a huge man with biceps the size of Markus’ head, and her step-mother is North of all people. If they heard that he’d hurt Alice in any way or capacity, directly or indirectly, they’d skin him alive and ship his limbs to every continent.

A shiver runs up his spine. It’s a very plausible thought. Markus doesn’t want Connor to be the one tasked to find his limbs or something, because no matter how much Connor loves him, that’s just… excessive.

But yes. Connor, waiting for him at home, a serene smile on his face, preparing a meal to fill Markus’ stomach.

Or, if Markus is lucky, Connor waiting for him in bed, a wicked smirk on his blushing cheeks and his skin bared, with just that [pretty, sh](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fanotherimg.dazedgroup.netdna-cdn.com%2F1050%2Fazure%2Fanother-prod%2F360%2F1%2F361966.jpg&t=Y2RhMDMyMDE4Mzc1MzNjZjU1Y2ZmYjFiMzgzZjFmNmRiYzIwNGUwNyx5clRpdzdMMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AULhtm29DPHEvvvvU0tLmNw&p=https%3A%2F%2Frk-1k.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175913764685%2Fyo-you-should-write-more-about-markus-somnophilia&m=1)e[er robe](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fannalisabarbieri.files.wordpress.com%2F2013%2F02%2Frear-window-negligee.jpg&t=Njc4ZWZjMTcwMGZjN2M5YzNiZGRhZGZkNjZmZmY5ODZjMzQ1NmMxYix5clRpdzdMMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AULhtm29DPHEvvvvU0tLmNw&p=https%3A%2F%2Frk-1k.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175913764685%2Fyo-you-should-write-more-about-markus-somnophilia&m=1) falling off his shoulders—thank  _you_ , Kamski—legs spread wide and cock jutting out gloriously.

It’s nice. It’s really, really nice.

“Honey?” Markus sing-songs as he unbuttons the first two buttons of his dress shirt, pushing up his sleeves as he walks the dimly lit hallway leading to their living room, “I’m home!”

He half-expects Connor to come bounding out around the corner, as he is wont to do when they don’t see each other from hours on end, but the house is strangely quiet. Connor usually has something by Panthera or Ariana Grande playing while he’s at home, but now, everything is just… quiet.

Weird. Hm.

There’s no smell of anything but that peppermint-rose scent Connor likes spraying their house in, there’s no low barking, no high-pitched giggling, no North cussing, no anything.

Markus’ jaw ticks and his hand curls into a tight fist. He won’t let his mind wander, because he knows where his thoughts will go, from blue blood spilling out into the hallway to Connor crawling, half-mauled and dying.

“Connie?” Markus calls out again, crouching down slightly and keeping his hands primed to strike, HUD blinking with 911 just a blink away.

He flattens his hand against the door that’s held ajar, the door leading to their bedroom.

As he slowly pushes it open, he lets out an audible sigh when a soft snore reverberates through the air, and Markus sags by the door, shaking his head.

A laugh punches its way out of his strict airways as he finally looks up, ready to berate Connor for scaring him like that, when he stops in his tracks and his voice dies down, throat drying and HUD briefly flashing yellow with a warning.

There is Markus’ long time partner, laying on his side, cheeks flushed and hands fisted around one of Markus’ t-shirts, looking extremely soft and… and vulnerable.

Connor’s one of the deadliest weapons ever known to mankind. He might not be strong like the TR400 models, but he exudes danger and deadliness with every graceful swing of his body. Markus has seen him fight without any bars, without anything else in his mind but to maim and hurt, and Markus has been on the receiving end of that ruthlessness.

He might be goofy, but he’s never vulnerable.

Markus never really catches him off guard like this.

His steps are sure and light as he lopes toward Connor’s prone body, knee pressing down against the mattress as he leans in to watch Connor’s chest move up and down organically, the light brown moles on his chest barely even seen in the low light like this.

Connor shuffles and curls around Markus’ shirt even more, rubbing his nose against the worn fabric. Markus smirks and pushes Connor’s hair back.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself, pulling his hand back to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

His lover makes a small noise that makes Markus’ brows furrow, so he makes quick work of his shirt, making his way towards the end of the bed near Connor’s legs, and then places both his hands on Connor’s lithe thighs.

He’s always liked the way the darkened bronze of his skin offsets the paleness of Connor’s skin. They were made for each other, him and Connor. Dark and light. Skies, earth, and the colour of the dirt that covers the earth they live in.

Markus closes his eyes and lets himself feel Connor’s warm skin underneath his palms, revelling in it before opening his eyes back up again and watching the way his hands practically dwarf his lover’s thighs. Like this, with Connor’s pale skin as a canvas, Markus could see the veins in his hands, the callouses, the things that make him a little bit more human with each blemish.

Of course he likes it.

He bends down to press kisses over Connor’s bare thighs, pushing up the loose, wide  _Volvox_  shirt that Lieutenant Anderson gifted to him, letting himself stop just an inch from Connor’s soft member, his lips still pressing insistently on Connor’s skin.

A thought passes his mind.

_Wake him up. He’ll like it better when you wake him up._

Markus presses his forehead against Connor’s thigh and huffs out a breath.

The thought of fucking Connor just like this—vulnerable, sleep-soft, lovely, and completely at his mercy—plucks a string inside him that he didn’t know could be able to produce such lovely music.

He should talk himself out of doing this. He really, really should.

But instead, he kneels on the bed and pushes Connor’s legs up by the ankles, manhandling him to lay on his back, revealing the winking furl of his asshole, dusky and slightly damp.

Markus smirks.

Connor did miss him, didn’t he?

He spits on his fingers and slowly inches them inside, careful not to wake Connor up. Markus was surprised when he found out that with him, in their home, Connor is a heavy sleeper. Anywhere else, someone would just breathe and he’s up and running, one hand over his gun holster.

While his fingers pump into Connor, Markus moves up and latches onto a pretty nipple, wanting to just push his cock inside his lover and chase his release, but Markus can and will take his time. He closes down all his cooling systems and licks around Connor’s nipple, which was hardening under the ministrations of Markus’ tongue.

When the paler android’s legs start to fold together so he could shift into another position, Markus pulls back and slots himself neatly between Connor’s legs, his dick pressing insistently against Connor’s ass, still encased in his dark slacks, tenting visibly through the material.

Connor whines at the loss of something inside him, and Markus laughs, but is quickly cut off as he hisses when Connor slightly presses back against him, sensitive and ever so attentive even in sleep.

If he tried hard enough, he won’t wake Connor up.

Markus grinds himself against Connor, groaning deeply at the slightly rough friction against his aching cock, hands braced on either side of Connor’s head. Markus’ shirt is still in his hand, clutched tight against his chest, and the thought of Connor seeking comfort in something of Markus makes his heart clench, sorrowful that he wasn’t there to give it to Connor.

He lets out a breath and dips his head low, hovering just above Connor’s, before pressing his forehead to Connor’s, hips still moving slowly to relieve his straining cock against Connor’s plump ass.

“God, I missed you, baby,” he confesses, one of his hands starting to rove the planes of Connor’s pale body, cherishing the bumps of Connor’s beauty marks, the softness of his skin, the raised scars from all the times he danced with death.

Beautiful.

His fingers inch back down again, brushing against Connor’s entrance and making the pale android gasp in his sleep, unconsciously twisting his hips for more. He pulls down his zipper the same time he moves back down again, breathing lightly against Connor’s hipbone, before shifting further down to lick cautiously against Connor’s entrance.

It gets the expected reaction; Connor arches his back and moans, head moving to the side as if to hide his face, and Markus smirks against his lover’s hole at that, wondering how Connor could be shy even in sleep.

Markus wraps a hand around his pulsating erection as he gives Connor another lick, insistent yet gentle, before pushing his tongue into Connor, who whines again and pushes back greedily.

He just wants to flip Connor over and take him from behind, fuck into his pliant body and get whatever he wants; fuck everything else. But he also wants to take his time. Know what works and what doesn’t, know how much he can trespass until they’re both at their breaking point.

God, he can almost see Josh looking at him with his lips pursed and his eyebrows narrowed in judgement when he inevitably knows because Markus can’t keep his mouth shut around North, who is a notorious gossip.

Markus squeezes his dick as he continues to fuck Connor with his tongue, the other man’s legs now situated over Markus’ shoulders, toes curling at each thrust Markus does with his tongue.

Connor uses his legs to weakly pull Markus closer, and if Markus didn’t know any better, he’d think that Connor was awake, but with the way his face is flushed but still very much asleep, that’s not the case.

He’s just needy.

Markus follows, though, diving back in to lick and suck at Connor’s hole, enjoying himself without Connor being impatient and just pushing Markus back against the mattress and then doing everything himself. Markus loves it when Connor takes initiative, too, but tonight is his turn.

Connor’s all wet and damp inside; a little bit loose, but that isn’t too out of place. The pale android loves getting fucked—the first time they had sex, Connor all but broke his hip to get on his hands and knees for Markus—just as much as Markus loves fucking him.

He curls his fingers back in beside his tongue, eyes sliding closed as he focuses on slowly bringing Connor off, who is writhing gently on the bed, eyelids fluttering with pleasure. Markus revels in the soft and breathy oh, oh, ohs, he’s managing to pull from Connor’s mouth, the sound dragging into a whine when Markus stops eating Connor out in favour of biting a dark blue bruise onto his lover’s asscheek, and then moving onto Connor’s half-hard cock, leaking slightly at the tip.

His senses are hit with the taste of musky sweetness, dulled by sweat and sleep, as he laps at the head of Connor’s cock, wrapping his lips around the spongy head before taking in almost half—Connor didn’t see the need to ‘upgrade’ when Kamski made him compatible with WR400 biocomponents, and Markus didn’t, either. They were happy with what they have—of his lover’s dick into his mouth, punching a lilting gasp from Connor’s throat.

A hum makes its way up Markus’ throat, and he bobs his head with each second beat of the rhythm he hums. Markus looks up to watch Connor twist under his ministrations, his fingers still deep in Connor and his mouth tight around Connor’s cock. The cotton-candy blue flush from his cheeks has migrated down to his shoulders and chest, painting him with an almost alien finish, the way the flush is just darker beneath the sharp jut of his cheekbones, making the dark brown of his beauty marks slightly darker.

With Markus’ help, Connor’s prick quickly fills, hot inside Markus’ mouth.

His own dick is hard and aching.

Markus rears back to position Connor onto his stomach, but Connor just groans and shifts onto his side, his legs closing together and Markus’ shirt shoved back underneath his nose, curled in a foetal position, leaving Markus standing on his knees on the dark emerald sheets of their shared bed, prick hanging out from his fly and chest heaving from arousal.

He feels somewhat ashamed but powerful.

Because when he wraps his hands around either side of Connor’s hips, thumbs pressed against the small of Connor’s back, a little over four inches away from each other, he feels strong, he feels powerful and merciful. But when he lifts Connor up like the man doesn’t weigh anything just to get Connor’s knees underneath him, ass propped up into the air and face pressed against the duvet, Markus doesn’t just feel powerful, he feels dominant.

Connor’s at his complete mercy. Everything Connor is to Markus as of this moment is nothing but a warm hole to sink into, something he can take his selfish pleasure in.

Markus wonders if this is how it feels to fuck some faceless prostitute.

Maybe he’ll talk to Connor about that next time.

He pushes into Connor, hands tight and creating dark blue dents against Connor’s sensitive skin, a small grunt escaping him when Connor’s channel flutters around the thickness of his cock. Even when Connor’s loose, he never could quite be loose enough for Markus’ prick. He’s always just right, just tight and warm, and Markus wishes he could keep Connor around him all the time like a glove, clenching and squeezing with each tiny movement he made.

“Fuck,” Markus gasps as Connor tightens around him, and he begins rutting in earnest, biting his lip so he won’t groan out loud and wake Connor up—he’s gotten this far. He’s going to make it until the end if it’s the last thing he fucking does.

Connor mewls as Markus fucks into him, sleepily adjusting his arms in front of him, yawning lightly before settling back into peaceful rest.

Markus looks down where he and Connor are connected; the way Connor takes him with little give, fluttering around his dick insistently. He feels warm, all of a sudden, as he watches himself disappear into Connor’s pliant, sleeping body, his throat dry as he feels his orgasm build from the pit of his stomach.

His lover hitches his ass up to take more of Markus in, and Markus’ eyes squeeze shut, refraining himself from just slamming himself into Connor.

“Markus…” Connor whispers in his sleep. Markus knows Connor is asleep, but he still answers, a throaty little yeah? as he chases his release deep in Connor, balls slapping against his lover’s pale ass.

He chokes on a gasp when Connor calls his name out again and tightens impossibly around him, bending forward to plaster himself against Connor’s back, dwarfing him under his frame.

“Shit,” Markus growls, “Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he confesses against the shirt bunched up at Connor’s back, hips moving erratically. He grips Connor’s hips and pushes the man’s ass back against him as he thrusts forward, a deep, long snarl escaping his lips as he comes into Connor’s body, the man’s asshole clenching and milking Markus for all he’s worth.

Connor moans.

Markus pants, hands shaking as he takes stock of Connor’s body, fingers dipping into Connor’s entrance with his own dick still shoved inside, coming copiously. Connor’s still asleep.

Connor’s still asleep…

“One more time,” Markus whispers to himself as his dick hardens once more, fingers wet from his own release as he positions Connor back up with his hands, painting his skin with Markus’ spunk.  “One more time, baby.”

* * *

Connor wakes up gradually.

The sun is beating against his skin, and he feels sore, he feels very sore, but the good kind of sore. The kind of sore that he only ever remembers imagining when Markus is in relation to that kind of soreness.

First time he wakes, he feels the sun.

The second time, he hears someone, feels something.

The third time, he gasps as he’s twisted onto his back, and something is shoved inside him, hitting his prostate expertly and readily.

The fourth time, his legs are wrapped around a narrow waist and he’s moaning into soft lips.

He fully comes awake as he feels someone pressing the pads of their fingers against his stomach. Connor is full. Very, very full. He hasn’t felt this way in a while, not since Markus went away for that conference in Melbourne and Christchurch.

“…Mm…” he hums, sleepily smiling, eyes still closed. “Welcome home, Markus.”

Connor can feel teeth scrape against his collarbones. “Thank you, baby.”

He shifts so he can open his eyes without the sunlight hitting them directly, finally looking at Markus’ green and blue eyes, the dark flush his body’s taken to, a flush only garnered when they’ve spent a lot of time being very, very passionate in bed.

Connor reaches up cups Markus’ cheeks, loving the way the man’s stubble prick his palms, before moving on to grab at his lover’s ears, tugging in a scolding manner.

“How many times?” He asks, and Markus has the audacity to look sheepish, but he’s cute, so Connor lets it slide.

He asks again.

Markus presses a kiss to Connor’s wrist. “Ten,” he admits with no little amount of embarrassment.

“I hope you know this means you’re not getting anywhere near my ass in the near future.”

“I can settle for a week.” Markus whines as he thrusts shallowly into Connor.

Connor tilts his head and considers this. He moves his hand back to Markus’ cheeks and pulls him in for a sleep-drunk kiss, clenching around his lover’s dick. “The argument can be made for four days if you make me come in two minutes.”

Green and blue eyes sparkle with mirth. God, Connor loves him so much.

“I make you come in under a minute, I get to do this again.” Markus coughs. “And… other things?” 

Connor laughs into Markus’ neck. “I love it when we communicate, darling.”

It’s always good when Markus comes back home to him.

Connor really, really likes it.

**Author's Note:**

> leave comments ! i like that shit


End file.
